


This Place of Wrath and Tears

by TheWritingCorner



Series: The Invictus Series [1]
Category: Twilight (Movies), Twilight Series - All Media Types, Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: Also bc the main character is pro Volturi and well, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, As in 'Vampires exist so history art culture and politics are going to be different subtly or not', Canon-Typical Violence, Canon? What is Canon? Canon has been nitpicked and changed so timelines make SOME sense, Conversations of morals and politics and legal systems and governance, F/F, F/M, Gen, Historical Settings, Like yeah it's going to be serious but?? SO self-indulgent, Like?? She is going to become pretty pro-Volturi so that is that, M/M, Manipulation, Of sorts?, Original Female Character - Freeform, Other, Reincarnation makes the OFC moral's go kinda wonky, Self-Indulgent, Self-Insert, Shameless Volturi propaganda, So obviously, Unreliable Narrator, Vampire Politics, and like? Her entire relationship with the Volturi does not help, but as time progresses it moves closer and closer to modern times, grey morality, not historically accurate, of all sorts, political machinations, you know how that goes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-07
Updated: 2019-06-02
Packaged: 2019-06-23 02:21:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15596121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWritingCorner/pseuds/TheWritingCorner
Summary: Twilight was supposed to be abook, not her new reality. Changing the past should be impossible, but her dreams proved otherwise. Death should be permanent, but she had beenreborn. As strange as it was, Oriana was not going to waste her second life in technicalities, she was going to live it at her fullest, and if she accidentally helped the Volturi on their quest for power?Well, she had always liked politics, anyway.





	1. Past is ( not ) Prologue

The ripples created by even the tiniest of the pebbles have the potential of creating the biggest changes. All it takes is one second, one change, and the world will never be the same. _Everything_ can change.

In a forgotten corner of the world, a butterfly flaps its wings, and somewhere else, some _time_ else, a hurricane begins to form.

 _Set_ _the_ _scene_.

The Trojan War is brewing on the horizon, Greece against Troy, a war fought for beauty by heroes for kings. The Dawn of Gods, the Golden Age for the Olympians… And yet, yet creatures of dreams and nightmares lurk in the shadows. On the East of the continent, the shadow of the Romanian Coven falls upon humans and vampires alike. Fear is used as a weapon, humanity paralyzed by the certainty of their mortality. And the vampires? The cruelest of their kind relish on the chaos, seeding it and spreading it throughout Europe, Asia and Africa. It is not the Age of Men, not the Age of Progress.

It is needless chaos and disorder. It is lawlessness at it’s finest.

Chaos prevails, but Nature is not to be bound by such things. Soon the pieces are set in motion, for how could there be chaos without order? Lawlessness without the law?

Balance is only natural, and thus, Nature plans.

In one world, Nature plans within its boundaries. Order is brought forth, but soon it becomes obvious that the balance is precarious, that even the slightest of the pressures can send the scales tumbling down.

This is not the story of _that_ world.

In this world, Nature dares to presume. It reaches beyond its own boundaries, beyond what is natural, beyond even the confines of life and death.

In another world, Nature plays the game with the pieces given. In this world, Nature cheats for it plays to win.

Deep within a forest that has long disappeared from the records of men, bright red eyes snap open to the encouragements of a childish voice. Three _millennia_ later a ten year old dreams of change and of strangers with crimson eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am currently in a Twilight kick, so hopefully I can spit at least three chapter before I become hyperfocused on another fandom and my updates become more erratic.  
> Also! Comments are great! They inspire me! Please comment!


	2. I Open at the Close

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Death is sudden, unexpected and not _at all_ what she was had wanted. What came after was even stranger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a somewhat poetic description of death by car accident on the beginning of this chapter. If you want to skip it, scroll down to the beginning of the second scene. Right after 'she had died'.

Death was complicated.

There were no wrap-ups, no clean breaks. Not when it came early, not when it came with violence. No, this kind of death was all messy ends, all broken edges. It wasn’t the kind of death that was ‘quicker and easier than falling asleep’, not the painless slip into the the beyond. It was not a kind death. It was painful and drawn out, desperation and fear slowly gripping one’s lungs.

This was the kind of death she had known, the kind of death that changed people even more than dying did, she knew this well. It had been an accident, a mistake. The wailing of her friends, the calls for help, the panicked breaths of the stranger that had inadvertently taken her life. She had not been supposed to die this way, she had not been supposed to suffer as life left her with every breath. Young and healthy, the world had been at her feet, possibilities cropping up at every corner. She had so much potential, and it all had been extinguished by one drunk mistake. Not hers, or her friends, mind you, but a _stranger’s_.

Her fate had been sealed by someone who had decided to throw common sense and common law out the window, and she had suffered for it.

Her death was complicated, painful, _messy_.

Reincarnation had not been part of her expectations, she had not believed it was even an _option_. Oblivion, heaven, hell, purgatory, Hades, there were endless possibilities, and reincarnation? Reincarnation was strange. Not one she would have chosen.

She had known it had been a possibility, known it’s principles, but when it came down to it? She had not believed it could be possible.

She had been wrong, so utterly and fantastically _wrong_.

On her first life, her eyes had closed just as the ambulance arrived, a tad too late, a second too slow. Her last breath had been drawn, her last words pronounced, she had died.

 

* * *

 

Then there was darkness, darkness that she believed to be oblivion, the nothingness many feared. Oppressive silence and despairing solitude, but that terrible _terrible_ reality hadn’t lasted long. Soon the unchangeable changed, she heard voices. They were muffled, intangible, just out of reach, but they were voices, they were proof that she wasn’t _alone_ . At that moment she could have cried, because while she wasn’t an extrovert by any means, she wasn’t one to be alone. So she wished, oh how she wished not to be so so _alone_.

That was when she learned that the phrase ‘ _be careful for what you wish for_ ’ holds more truth than one would expect.

Out of nothingness came the pain, the constriction of movement she hadn’t known she had until it was gone. Suddenly, she was being _pushed_ . Down, down, _down_ she went, down into the rabbit hole. Unable to scream, unable to move, all she could do was wait, wait, _wait_.

That is how she came into the world, naked and afraid. She had been terrified, but to those around her, she had been nothing more than another screaming newborn. They weren’t wrong per se, the terror reverted her to the most primal of dispositions, seeking warmth, contact, _safety_.

As soon as she found what she was searching for, snuggled in her new mother’s chest, she quieted, primal instincts appeased by the comforts of safety.

Tired by the ordeal, she soon found herself slipping into a dreamless sleep.

She didn’t know where she was, who she was with or she why was she alive after she had clearly died, but she knew she was _safe_ , and that was all that mattered.

 

* * *

 

The period after that was _blurry_ , to say the least. The pain of birth had given her an awareness her newborn brain had not been able to handle, so it hadn’t. Her memories of the months after her rebirth were nonexistent, blurs of nothingness among a sea of pre-existing memories.

For the first two years of her life, Oriana Blanco was like any other child. Curious, adorable, sociable. Then awareness hit.

 

* * *

 

Awareness came suddenly and violently, appearing from nothingness and overcoming everything on it’s path. It rattled her brain, and changed the bright innocent child she had been. How could it not? From one moment to another, she had remembered what it meant to be mortal, what it meant to _die_. Oriana was all of two on her new life when she was hit with the reality of her situation.

She would never see her family again, she would never again laugh with her friends, argue with her sister, cook with her mother, dance with her father. The loss of an _entire world_ was beyond what one would dare to imagine, and soon after the realization the grief set in.

Later, when Oriana would look back to her childhood she would marvel at her new parent’s resilience, because not once in all their struggles did they give up on her. Not even when she had given up on herself, did her new parents falter and she was _thankful_ . Oh so _thankful_ , because without their constant support, she didn’t know if she would have been capable to overcome her grief. While she prided herself in being adaptable, resilient, prone to change; she could only handle so much stress before breaking. Her parents made sure that she would not break, they surrounded her with unconditional love and safety, they made sure to remind her that even if she had lost everything she once loved, _she was not alone_.

Little by little, she was brought out of the depths of her grief, little by little life returned into her eyes and with it came a fierce determination to _live_ , to do what she had not been allowed to do before.

 

* * *

 

“Daddy?” Childish voice called out as blue eyes focused on the book she was reading, _A detailed recounting of the Venezuelan War of Independence_.

Tiny fingers rubbed over the page, as if to make sure that what she had seen had not been changed by a trickster after publication. It had to be a joke, it _had_ to be. It just didn’t make _sense_.

“Yes, Ori?”

“When was the Venezuelan Declaration of Independence adopted? Like, what month and day?”

“If I remember correctly, it was July 7th, 1811. Why do you ask?”

“Doesn… No reason.” Shaking her head, she sent her father a smile and focused her attention on the book in front of her, a frown on her face.

The date was wrong, she _knew_ that. The Venezuelan Declaration of Independence was adopted by seven of the ten provinces of the Captaincy General of Venezuela on July 5th, 1811. The date was different, different by _two whole days_. What had caused the change? What had caused the provinces to decide to declare their Independence two entire days after they had on her previous world? Why had this happened? Inconsistencies like that one could change history, change entire civilizations…

If something as big as an _Independence Day_ was different, what was to say that nothing else was? Had the Mayan fallen a year later than they should have? Had the Salem Witch Trials gone differently? Had the Mongols conquered a different geographic region? Had Africa been divided differently during the Age of Imperialism? Was there a pharaoh in Ancient Egypt she didn’t know about? Had the rise and fall of apartheid gone differently?

Looking at the book , she ran a finger over the letters on the page and _wondered_ . Wondered what else had changed, and how those changes had affected culture, politics, _the arts_ . She wondered how these small, inconsequential shifts had changed the _world_.

 

* * *

 

Blue eyes glared intently into the, the _family computer_ willing it to work faster, to submit to her will. To her parents, who were watching her fondly from the couch, the scene was absolutely _adorable_. How could it not be? At ten years old, Oriana knew she painted an adorable picture. She had a childish face framed by curly light brown hair. Paired with her big blue eyes and tanned skin from endless hours spent under the Floridian sun lend itself for a cute kid. She knew this, and usually she did not hesitate to use her appearance for her benefit.

But now? Now she wasn’t trying to be cute, she didn’t want to be _cute_ , she wanted the dinosaur computer in front of her to work. _Dammit_ ! She had been so happy when her parents had told her they had bought a family computer, but she had forgotten _when_ she had been reborn, as she, admittedly, tended to do. Going to class, spending time with her friends, dinners with her parents... Routine made her forget that she no longer was in 2018, that technology had not caught up to her standards, that by all definitions she was stranded in the _past_.

She had years to go before the world would once again be at her fingertips, years before information would come forth at the flick of her fingers, and it _frustrated_ her beyond words. She already had to hide her unnatural understanding of the world, wary of what this strange new world would do with a child that acted like a college student. Hidden as she was, she had hoped she would be able to find release in the Internet. To find a refugee on the familiar, on the _known_.

She had hoped for so much, but the slow progress she had made googling the _daily news_ showed that the Internet would not be her ally in her quest to unraveling the mysteries of the world, that it would not be the safe haven she had so ardently desired and it _frustrated_ her.

Things were different in this strange new world. Culture, politics, history were all unlike what she had _known_ , and she wanted to know _why_. Without the Internet as her helper, the research would be a much more arduous task.

Glaring at the computer petulantly, she erased the search history, closed the window and turned the computer off with a huff. Pouting petulantly at her parents’ laughter, she stuck her tongue out at them childishly.

While technically she was thirty years old, she was _stuck_ on a ten year old body, so she would milk her youth until she could not do so any longer.

“Don’t be mean! I wanted to read the news in the new computer, but it’s taking too long,” whining, she threw herself dramatically into the nearest couch. “I can’t wait that long! I would go all gray before it loaded!”

Her father’s laughter rang clearly on the silent room, and she hid a satisfied smile with one of the couches pillows. She liked it when she made her parents happy, when she made them laugh. They _deserved_ it.

“Patience is important when it comes to computers, Ori. It may take long, but the wait is worth it,” her father said. “But we guessed that this would happen. We also bought you a couple of books that we thought would interest you.”

Eyes lighting up, she jumped up from her dramatic pose. _That_ kind of bribe was something she would stop her dramatics for.

“Really?!”

“They are in your room,” smiling indulgently, her mother reached for her arms and pulled her into a warm hug. “Happy tenth birthday, dear.”

“Thank you! I love you two so much,” beaming at them, she returned her mother’s hug.

That is why she loved her parents. They _understood_ and _loved_ her, her oddities and quirks included. They loved her, even when they didn’t understand where her love for culture, history and politics had come from. As engineers, they had expected for her to be interested in mathematics, in science. They did not see the dead girl that had put her everything into studying politics in order to help the world turn into a better place. They did not see the girl that went all starry eyes at the mention of foreign cultures, of history she had yet to learn. They didn’t know who she had been, but they still loved her for who she _was_.

“Yeah, yeah, we know Ori. We love you too,” sighing happily at her parents’ words, she gave her mother a last squeeze and let go of the hug, mind distracted with the endless _possibilities_ that the books could offer.

From the moment she had escaped the stupor she had fallen in after her memories ahd struck, she had slowly become aware that her new world was inherently _different_ to her old one. Little things didn’t add up, a date there, a historical figure over there.

History was different, and if it had changed, what about the culture? The geopolitics? _What about_ ? The research potential was _huge_ , and she wanted to know _how_ , she wanted to know _when_ , but more importantly, she wanted to know _why_ . _Why_ was this new world different? _What_ had caused these basic changes? These small shifts that had changed the foundations of history?

She wanted to _know_.

Her parents had learned of her fascination on history when she had been eight, so they were not as surprised as they could have been when she asked for information for her tenth birthday. Not a birthday party, not a pony, not a dog, but _information_.

“Can I go read the books now? Please?” She tilted her head and unleashed her puppy eyes, the same eyes she had practiced for _months_ before she had begun to use, upon them.

“Of course, just be sure not to stay up too late.”

“Thank you!” Smiling widely, she dropped a kiss into both her parent’s cheeks, before she all but ran to her room, the prospect of getting a step closer to the knowledge she desired luring her.

 

* * *

 

Shock cursed through her veins as she stared at the information laid down on the pages in front of her.

_It couldn’t be possible._ Logic dictated that fiction was _fake, made up, story telling_ . Book characters could not spring into existence, creatures of legend could not suddenly become _real_ . She wasn’t in _Inkheart_ . She wasn’t inside a book, and specially, she wasn’t in a world were predators dressed up as enchanting individuals in order to drain humans dry from their blood. She could not have been _reborn_ into _Twilight_ . It was impossible… But the book on her hands said otherwise. The timelines hidden throughout her room said otherwise. Her _knowledge_ said otherwise. The bright crimson words were not fake, not a typo nor a sick joke.

**“** **St. Marcus Day.**

**The origins of St. Marcus Day are shrouded in mystery. It is known that sometime after the city of Volterra, Italy was founded St. Marcus cleansed the streets of Volterra from vampires, witches and werewolves alike. The issue lies in the knowledge that some of sources declared Volterra’s founding to have happened during the third century BC, while other sources claim it was founded during the eighth century BC. The origins of the city of Volterra are as mysterious as the city’s most famous holiday and it’s royal family.**

**While there are signs of similar holidays cropping up all across Italy and the surrounding countries, St. Marcus Day is only celebrated on Volterra proper.**

**Many confuse St. Marcus Day for the Feast of Saint Mark, but numerous sources separate the two of them. One of the principal reasons for this separison is the date of the holidays, for St. Marcus Day is celebrated on March 19th, while the Feast of Saint Mark is celebrated April 25th. Furthermore, St. Marcus Day predates the Feast of Saint Mark for over a thousand eyes. So while the confusion is understandable, the two of them are completely different.**

**As it is, St. Marcus Day celebrates the liberation of Volterra from vampires, witches and all sorts of supernatural creatures, giving it a Halloween-esque air, even without costumed strangers trick-or-treating throughout the night. As many ancient holidays, there are certain traditions that the inhabitants of the city follow zealously, even nowadays when the holiday has lost most of its macabre edge.**

**Mornings on March 19th are unnaturally quiet, imitating the fear and oppression the inhabitants of the city supposedly felt during the so-called ‘vampire oppression’ period. This brief period, from sunrise to just before midday, is kept quiet in respect of the spirits of those lost in the hands of the supernatural, or so the legends claim. One hour before noon, the current head of the Volturi Famiglia, an ancient Volterran family that has invested on the city from the very beginning and continues to do so to this day, rings the bells of the Palazzo dei Priori to signify the end of the mourning period and then the holiday truly begins. Now, traditionally, a mass was held on the Cattedrale di Santa Maria Assunta from eleven to noon, but as time passed, this tradition began to fall out of favor and now only the most religious of the citizens of Volterra can be found on the cathedral at this time.**

**As soon as the bells are ringed, the rest of the inhabitants of the city don their crimson cloaks and begin their revelry.**

**On the streets, citizens section themselves in ages. Children under fourteen moving towards the cities many parks to dance and play and enjoy the free treats handed out by city organized booths. Teenagers and young adults join on the main plaza, playing booth games and enjoying the holiday’s atmosphere.**

**Restaurants on Volterra have special menus for this day, filled with delicacies and traditional foods. The legend holds that in Volterra on March 19th, wine glasses are always filled to their brim.**

**Later, after dusk, children and teens, young adults and parents alike all come together on the Marcus Plaza and dance around the bonfire, celebrating the triumph of St. Marcus.**

**At dawn on March 20th, the bells of the Pallazo dei Priori will ring once again, signaling the end of the holiday and the dawn of a new age without the monsters that once haunted the streets at night.”**

Twilight, she was in **motherfucking** _Twilight_ . Now, it wasn’t as if _hated_ the books, on the contrary, the books had held a special place on her heart as the first romance novels she had read. As problematic as some of the factors of the books had been, she had _liked_ the series. The lore was fascinating and the fanon was _fantastic_ , but she had never, not **once** , wished to live on a world were she was prey, on a world where she could not even trust that the worst thing hiding in the dark was humanity’s worst.

She had liked Twilight, but she had never wanted to _live_ it, and yet, there she was, living it.

Glancing at her clock, she grimaced when she noticed the time, it was barely _nine_ but she was in the body of a child and she _liked_ to sleep. Also, if there was any chance she would grow tall on this life, she would _take it_.

Closing the book with a thud, Oriana dropped it on her desk and sighed. She could deal with the shitstorm that was living on a fictiontional world adamant in secrecy _tomorrow_ . Now it was past her bedtime, and she was going to _sleep_.

 

* * *

 

That night, she dreamed of beautiful strangers with blood red eyes for the first time, but not the last.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright! First chapter is a go! I was actually expecting it to be only around 1000 words so I am happy that it's longer! As it is, this chapter is an introduction to our main character, her interests and some of her goals. Also! Some lore on St. Marcus Day bc I feel like the holiday would be the _biggest_ clue for someone reincarnated in the Twilight World.  
>  St. Marcus Day isn't actually a holiday, so it randomly becoming one, added up with the similarity and the _location_ , well, it should be at least a warning bell. By the way! The inspiration for the in-depth information came from the tumblr blog [kyilliki](http://kyilliki.tumblr.com/) and their fantastic Volturi meta!


	3. Dreams of faraway shores

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oriana dreams for the first time on her new life, then she wakes up. _Then_ she dreams again, and change soon follows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a vampire transformation towards the end of the chapter, and a dismemberment too, but I don't believe it is too gore-y. Enjoy!

The truth no one likes to dwell in: the dead don’t dream.

The truth she won’t confess: she doesn’t dream, either.

Once upon a time, she had been a dreamer with her head stuck in the clouds. She had million of stories, of scenarios, of plans stuck on her head. Day or night, eyes closed or open, she  _ dreamed _ . She dreamed of a better world, of the possibilities of love, of a chance for change. She dreamed, and dreamed, and  _ dreamed _ , until all her dreams were  **taken** away. 

Overnight, she had lost everything. Overnight, she had lost her dreams.

Life had taken her dreams and left behind a nightmare for her final act. After that, how could she dare to dream? Creativity, willfulness, wistfulness, she still had the traits necessary to float away in the clouds, but no longer did she have the drive for it. 

The law of equivalent exchange explains that nothing can be gained if something is not lost. In exchange for knowledge, she had lost her peace of mind. In exchange for a second chance, she had lost her ability to dream. 

Not  _ once  _ since her rebirth had she dreamed. There had not been any nightly adventures, no childish enterprises, no romantic daydreams, no  _ nothing _ . She had been dreamless since her rebirth, and even  _ if  _ she had been able to dream, Oriana would not have allowed herself to do so. Once upon a time she kept her head on the clouds, now she preferred to have a firmer grasp in reality. 

With her discovery of exactly  _ where  _ she had been reborn, she could not be more glad for this change. She didn’t dare to hope for Bella’s, and  _ wow  _ she was only two years younger than the protagonist of  _ Twilight  _ what a weird thought, luck. She already knew her chances of meeting a benign vampire out of nowhere were close to none, so she could not risk anything. She had to keep her feet firmly on the ground, and her gaze aimed down. 

Once upon a time, she had dreamed of helping the world and had been willing to die for that dream. No longer was she willing to do so. Death had been painful, lonely, and she had been afraid, so  _ afraid _ . This time around, she wanted to  _ live _ . She wanted to see the world, to experience the seasons.

Yes, she was still fascinated by politics. Yes, she still wanted to create change, to leave behind proof that _ she had been there _ . To leave proof that  _ she came, she saw, she conquered _ . Yes, she wanted to leave her print on the world, but no longer was she willing to be on the frontlines in order to do so. 

Now, there was no need to get her wrong, Oriana still had it in her to create, to imagine, but she had grown wary, careful.  When any mistake could inadvertently cost her life, when any misstep may cost her freedom, she could not afford to slip. She could not afford to let her head fly away from her shoulders, not when she wanted to survive in a world where she was  _ prey _ .

The fact was, she had stopped dreaming, willingly or not, a long time ago. Unlike most, she did not wake with fuzzy memories of what she had dreamt about. There were no  _ Déjà vu _ , no sudden remembrances of long forgotten dreams.  Sleep came in the form of oblivion for a few sweet hours, endless darkness and respite in a world that was too bright, too dangerous. Sleep was darkness, it was safety, it was the calm before the storm.

Oriana did not dream, so one could understand her surprise when the night after discovering that she was living inside a romance book, she  _ dreamt _ . 

_ At first, the dream was unfocused, images bombarded with no order, no sense. Pale skin, a bloodthirsty grin and red eyes. A stranger in the shadows, following a tall young man with dark skin and kind brown eyes. The same young man, helping those around them with a gentleness that was rarely found. A strange language, so similar to Greek but at the same time so  _ **_different_ ** _. _

_ Then, it began to focus, to change. _

_ That strange language, slowly making sense. _

_ The young man, called Marcus by those around him, helping a couple resolve their issues with a soft voice and an understanding ear. _

_ Marcus, a familiar name for a stranger- why did it sound so familiar? Why did she feel as if she should  _ **_know_ ** _ this man?-, intervening in an argument between friends and helping them smooth out their differences. _

_ Time and time again, she witnessed Marcus helping those around him with a delicate touch and understanding mind. The background changed, the individuals changed, the tone of the argument changed. There were only two commonalities on the scenes before her: _

_ One, Marcus, the gentle giant she was slowly growing fond of. _

_ Two, the creature in the shadows, always watching, always  _ **_following_ ** _. _

_ The situation was understandably bizarre. What was see seeing? Why was she seeing it? She could not be dreaming, it seemed too real, too vivid. But, if it wasn’t a dream? What was it? A vision? No, it could not be. She wasn’t Alice, she did not fancy herself a psychic… And everything, everything was wrong. The language, the clothes, the decorations. No, she wasn’t looking forward, but  _ **_backward_ ** _.  _

_ Mind racing at the realization, she felt herself begin to wake up. Slowly, she felt her extremities tingle, her attention divide. She was waking up, slowly but surely. _

 

* * *

Her fork poked the yolk of the egg on her plate while her mind examined the possibilities. It could have just been a dream, as Occam’s Razor would point out, but it seemed like  _ more _ . Doyle had said that once the impossible was eliminated, whatever remains, however improbable must be the truth. So, what was impossible? She had not time traveled, that was for sure. She had woken up on her bed, not one hair out of place, so that was  _ out _ . It wasn’t a  _ just  _ a dream, because she could not dream… Suddenly reminded of the cartoons she had used to watch on her past life, she stopped.

She had not time traveled, but what if?  _ What if her soul had _ ? Astral projection was a thing, right? Professor X and the Emma Frost did it, so it was a  _ possibility _ . Of course, she wasn’t a mutant, since they didn’t exist on her current world and all, but Benjamin could control the elements and shit and Siobhan could rearrange reality, so maybe she could sleep and travel to the past? It seemed possible, but the theory needed testing.

As did the fact that out of nowhere she could understand what she believed to be  _ Ancient Greek _ , which was completely  _ illogical _ . Greek was, well,  _ all Greek to her.  _ She did not know how to speak modern Greek or how to write it, but suddenly she could understand the ancient version of the language? It just _ didn’t make sense _ .

Nodding to herself, she began shovel the eggs into her mouth, a determined expression on her face _. She had research to do _ . Once she was done eating, she used a napkin to clean any dirt on her face and dropped the plate into the sink. 

“Hey Mommy?” Turning on the water, she began to clean her plate as she waited for her mom’s response. 

“Yes, mija?”

“Can I search something up in the computer?”

“I don’t know, can you? You seemed pretty frustrated yesterday,” her mom said with laugh on her tone.

“Ughh,  _ moooom _ ,” whining, she placed the plate on the drying rack and turned around, crossing her arms. “Yes, I can!”

“Then of course, dear. We bought it so that we all could use it, so you can use it,” her mother said. “But you can only use her for two hours, then you have to go play with your friends, alright?”

“Yes, thank you!”

 

* * *

Two hours later, she had reached two conclusions and found a couple questions to ponder in the process. 

If the Volturi, okay she had to be logical, if  _ Aro  _ wanted gifted individuals, why not put an ad in Craiglist or something? Like, yes, a bunch of ungifted people would answer the ad, but they could just eat them. And like, if they wanted someone that could find out what gifts others had, wouldn’t it be easy to turn a profiler or a psychologist? Even if they didn’t get the gift they wanted, they could get something… Or at least she assumed so.

But she digressed. On her two hours of research, she had concluded two things. One, there was no logical way to determine whether what she was doing was actually astral projection or not. And two, she was now fluent not only in Ancient Greek but also in its most modern version, which was unbelievably  _ cool _ . It was like someone had uploaded everything she needed to know about the languages into her brain and while that was extremely  _ weird _ , it was also a gift she didn’t mind receiving. Never look a gift horse in the mouth and all, right?

Closing the internet window and powering the computer down, she added one last note on her notebook and closed it. The two hours had passed, and in all honesty, while she was  _ beyond curious _ about her new ‘dreams’, she also knew she had  _ time _ . 

Isabella Marie Swan was two years older than her, so she had  _ years  _ before things hit the fan… Not that she was going to be anywhere close to the shitshow that was  _ Forks  _ when it did. There was no fucking way she was getting anywhere close to Edwart ‘ _ Privacy? What is privacy? Is it tasty? _ ’ Cullen, Alice ‘ _ I know what is best for you so I won’t let you have all the facts _ ’ Cullen or Jasper ‘ _ I definitely should not be in a room full of humans and yet here I am _ ’ Hale. 

When reading the books she had  _ liked  _ the Cullen, but living on a world full of vampires had put things into perspective. Yes, she had  _ loved  _ the characters once upon a time, but? The blatant violation of privacy their abilities gave them, now  _ terrified  _ her. Also, she would rather interact with a vampire that had a bit more control than Jasper, like Rosalie. Honestly, she would love to meet Rosalie and maybe Emmett, but only if she had been turned before hand. She remembered what he had done to his  _ Tua Cantante _ , after all.

Hiding the notebook under her pillow, not that it mattered where she hid it since she doubter her parents knew Ancient Greek, she quickly moved to her closet and began to change. It was Saturday so her parents would allow her to stay out later than during a weekday, but she still wanted to enjoy the time she had with her friends.

_ Carpe diem _ , right? She may be living her second life, but it didn’t mean she couldn’t live it at its fullest.

 

* * *

_ That night she dreamed again. _

_ She dreamed of Marcus, of him sitting in what looked like the archaic version of a bedroom. A place its owner would call ‘their chambers’. He was brushing his brown hair while his eyes focused on the bronze mirror in front of him.  _

_ What was he looking at?  _

_ Curiosity aligning her bones, she stepped closer until she was at his side. Looking at the mirror she froze in shock. _

_ Her reflection was looking back at her. How?  _

_ “Who are you?” Marcus asked. She had thought she would play the part of an observer and nothing else. On her last dream that was what she had been, but it seemed that was no longer the case. She opened her mouth to speak, to answer his question, but nothing came out. She was confused beyond belief, wondering if she should speak or not. At the end, her curiosity overwhelmed her common sense. _

_ “I am Oriana,” she said as Marcus turned around and looked at her. While she noticed this, her focus was on both her words and her reflection. That afternoon she had discovered she could read Greek, both ancient and not, but learning she could also speak it? That left her shaken, and her reflection wasn’t helping on that front either. She looked pale, washed out, like a ghost. Why was that? _

_ “Are you a ghost?” _

_ “I am not sure, but I don’t think so. I believe I am alive, but just not in this time,” she said and shrugged. “I am-. Sorry, I don’t know if I am explaining myself correctly. I don’t know  _ **_how_ ** _ I am here, but I know that I am both human and alive. My theory is that I am traveling in my dreams.” _

_ “Were you sent by the Gods?” he asked warily, and she shook her head. _

_ “No, that I am sure of. I wasn’t sent by anyone, but I also don’t know why am I doing this. I just-. I started dreaming of the past yesterday, and now I am here. I don’t know why, I am just waiting to _ **_wake up_ ** _ ,” she said, her distress at her situation clear on her voice. Marcus must have also heard it, because his gaze softened and he offered her a tiny smile. _

_ “Well, if you swear on the Styx not to harm me, I am would be willing to keep you company until you ‘wake up’,” he said and offered his hand. “I am called Marcus.” _

 

 

* * *

The dreams became a common occurrence after that, and she soon learned not to fear them, for nothing could touch her on them. She was a ghost in all but name, and while she didn’t exactly understand why, she learned to accept it. She learned to  _ like  _ the dreams. Her conversations with Marcus were a delight, and she soon discovered that she was able to follow him and remain hidden to everyone  _ but  _ him.

Little by little, the dreams became just another part of her life. Another piece of her strange existence she had no answer for, and she accepted it. Little by little, she forgot to be afraid.

She forgot the dangers that lurked in the shadows. She forgot the vampire that she had seen the first time she dreamed.

That was her mistake.

 

* * *

 

 

_ The dream had begun like any other dream. She had appeared next to Marcus and they had begun to chat, as Marcus made his way back home. The conversation, the strangers around them, Marcus voice. Everything was as usual, but things changed the moment they stepped into his room. _

_ Suddenly, a shiver ran down her spine and her senses screamed  _ **_Danger_ ** _. Looking around the room, she tried to find the source of her fear and when she did, she  _ **_froze_ ** _.  _

_ There was a vampire inside the room. _

_ There was a vampire inside the room and she could do nothing but watch as he stalked closer to Marcus, closer to his  _ **_prey_ ** _. _

_ “Hello Marcus,” the vampire purred, and she was struck by the realization that if voices could be manifested physically, his voice would be lightning. Beautiful but lethal. _

_ “Plouteus, what are you doing in my chambers?” Marcus asked, and she could see it clearly. He was unaware of the danger he was in, he didn’t know that the individual in front of them was no longer human. _

_ “Don’t worry, my friend. Soon I will free you from the chains of humanity. Soon I will be able to show you eternity,” Plouteus ignored Marcus question and stalked closer to her friend. “I won’t lie to you, this will be agony, but it will be worth it.” _

_ In the blink of an eye, Plouteus had his arms around Marcus and his teeth buried in his neck. _

_ Marcus began to scream almost immediately after he was bitten.  _

_ And Oriana? She could only watch in horror as his friend was turned against his will. She could only watch and curse her inability to help as her extremities began to tingle and the scene began to blur. She could only watch in horror as she  _ **_woke up_ ** _. _

 

* * *

 

Only she didn’t wake up.

She had opened her eyes expecting to find herself on her room, but instead, she was in an ancient forest, the light of clearing in the distance. The ancient pine trees loomed above her, giving the place a macabre air and the screams resonating in the air did not help the atmosphere. Not when she could recognize the voice screaming, not when  _ they were Marcus’ screams _ .

Running towards the screams, she entered the clearing and rushed towards where her friend had been lain. Stopping by his side, she crouched down and let her hands hover over his form, something inside her  _ breaking  _ at the pain in his expression.

For the first time in a while, she hated her ‘dreams’.  _ Things weren’t supposed to be this way _ .

Her dreams should  _ not  _ show her the young man she befriended screaming his lungs out while a hauntingly handsome stranger lurked in the shadows of the great pine trees. Her dreams should  _ not  _ force her to witness the pains of a vampire’s transformation, not when the person suffering from it was her  _ friend _ . Her dreams should  _ not  _ hold the hate churning on her gut as the party responsible  _ smiled _ .

“What the  _ fuck _ ,” cursing softly, she reached to touch his paling skin,  _ oh Gods he was so pale had the transformation gone wrong? Was he dying? _ , and closed her eyes in defeat when her hand went through his shoulder. Head snapping up, she all but hisses at the hauntingly beautiful Plouteus. “ _ Why did you do this to him _ ?”

She had not expected an answer, and that had been her mistake. In her fear, she had forgotten that to remain hidden from those around her, she had to  _ concentrate _ , something she hadn’t done since entering the clearing. Her attempted touch had shown her she was still  _ dreaming _ , and she had hoped,  _ oh so dearly hoped _ , that this nightmare on the flesh was a fragment of her imagination, not truly the past. 

But. But the sinking feeling in her gut told her otherwise. Slowly, the pieces were falling into place, and the picture they painted told her that  _ yes, this had happened, yes it should have happened this way _ .  Marcus was turning into a vampire. Marcus, the gentle giant that somehow knew when people were in a relationship. Marcus, her kind friend that somehow always knew when a friendship was breaking or a marriage was becoming strained.  **_Marcus_ ** . Marcus, who even as a human had had an unnatural knack for identifying relationships…  _ Oh Gods, how had she not seen it? _ Her friend, her dear friend had been destined to become a vampire. Destined to go on and met a charming vampire with the ability to read minds and  _ form the Volturi _ .

And. 

And, just like that the pieces clicked into place. The picture crystalized. Yes, her friend would form the Volturi, but she would made sure he would not suffer as he had done on the books. He would be  _ happy _ .

“Curious indeed,” the somewhat familiar but  _ hated  _ voice broke her from within her reflections. Blue eyes full of fury met crimson eyes full of mirth. What she saw within eyes set off alarm bells, for those eyes were the eyes of a  _ beast _ .

A cold feeling washed upon her as she looked straight at those eyes devoid of humanity, devoid of warmth, devoid of  _ emotion _ . They were crazed, half-wild, they were eyes that shouted  _ predator  _ and her human senses  _ screamed  _ as Marcus screamed from the pain he was subjected to. Her senses  **_screamed_ ** at the certainty that she was prey, they  _ screamed  _ at the presence of a predator,  _ but _ .

But, those screams were muted, secondary. Yes, she was afraid, terrified even, but the emotions overwhelming her were different. Rising above her fear was her desire to help her friend. Not her hate for the vampire that eyed her with interest, but the feeling of compassion for the man she knew would soon turn into a predator. There was rhyme, there was reason behind her protectiveness. She had always fought for those who needed it, always spoken out against injustices. Not so much on this life, but  _ before _ ?  _ Before  _ she had always wanted to help. Before, she had always been willing to help, especially when it was  _ someone she cared about _ . She  _ knew  _ she was incapable of doing anything, unable to stop the transformation once it had begun, unable to take away his pain, but she wanted to  _ help  _ nonetheless. She at least had to  _ try _ .

Blue eyes narrowing, she watched the vampire in front of her warily, wondering if he would try to attack her.

“Did you hear me?  _ Why did you to this to him? _ ”

“ Τι έχουμε εδώ?/What do we have here?” Plouteus said, and she realized he had been speaking in Ancient Greek while she had been speaking in English.  “Perhaps a spirit? An apparition? I cannot understand its gibberish, but no matter. It cannot interact with this world, therefore it is inconsequential.”

Closing her mouth, she refused to speak to the, the, the  _ asshole  _ who had decided to turn his friend without his explicit permission. Glaring, she smiled, aware that it looked more like a child baring her teeth than anything else.

“The sun has risen thrice, Marcus should awaken up shortly,” the vampire said coldly, breaking the silence. Her focus narrowed in the vampire. “No need to make him hunt for his sustenance, I shall bring him a  _ snack _ .”

Just like that, Plouteus was gone.

“Of course, vampires have super speed. I forgot,” muttering under her breath, she focused her attention on Marcus and sighed. As much as she wanted, there was nothing she could do but offer her support, as she didn’t know if her voice would bring him any comfort, still she had to  _ try _ . She could not, would not, leave Marcus to suffer alone.

Suddenly weary at the realization that even  _ if  _ she were dreaming, even  _ if  _ nothing was real, she would still act the same way, Oriana let herself fall back, torso hitting the ground but not making a single sound.

Reclining to the side to look at Marcus’, form, she reached forward and let her hand hover over his head, moving it backwards, mimicking brushing hair back.

“Hey, I don’t know if you can hear me, Marcus, but _ you are not alone _ . I am here. I won’t leave you, not now, not while you are in pain” she said, beginning a steady stream of chatter designed to fill the silence. “I am sorry, I should have warned you of the dangers of beautiful strangers with red eyes, but I forgot. I  _ can  _ warn you of this, though, do  _ not  _ follow that man- eh, I mean that vampire, Plouteus, was it? He seems deranged, lost to the thirst and the violence. Not like someone you would want at your back… Like that stranger you encountered after helping your aunt, you remember him? Gods, he was shady....”

She kept her chatter steady, stopping only for tiny breaths she knew she didn’t need, but was accustomed on taking. She kept speaking and she  _ waited _ .

For what? She could not tell. Was she waiting to wake up? To open her eyes and to be back at home? Or was she waiting for Marcus to wake? For him to open  _ his  _ eyes and tell her everything would be alright? Oriana did not know what she was waiting for, but whatever it was, it did not happen.

Somewhere amidst her babbling, she had forgotten of Plouteus, so when the forest grew silent, when animals grew still in the presence of a predator, she ignored the warnings and continued talking. 

That was how he found them, one suffering and the other lying down next to them and filling the air with experiences they had both shared. 

“So you  _ can  _ talk the Common Tongue, were you trying to annoy me by talking in gibberish?”

Eyes widening a fraction, she quickly smoothed out her face into a mask of indifference and shrugged thoughtlessly. Her expression did not falter even as she caught glance of the scarlet drops on his beige tunic, nor when she saw he was carrying someone over his shoulder. On moments like that, she thanked the desensitization that came with watching countless hours of crime shows on her past life. Oriana was smart enough to sum one plus one, to realize the purpose of the individual in his shoulder and she felt strangely…  _ empty  _ at the realization that she  _ did not _ care about the fate of the man in the vampire’s shoulder if it meant Marcus would not suffer the devastating thirst described in the books.

“I do not like your kind,” she said. There was no use hiding her ability to understand him, and really, even if she pissed him off, he could not touch her.

“Vampires?  _ Bloodsuckers _ ?”

“No, monsters that have abandoned civility and manners.”

“But you do care for him?” he pointed at the man next to her, making her realize that MArcus was  _ no longer screaming _ . Glancing at him, she shrugged and met the vampire’s eyes boldly.

“As a matter of fact, yes. Marcus is gentle, he is kind. As far as I can tell, he is nothing like you.” It was the truth. From his face to his clothes, now as pale and as beautiful as she would imagine a vampire’s face to be, Marcus had an air of a gentle giant. A Vampiric Hagrid, if she had to make a comparison. 

“Don’t you think he will change?” The curiosity in Plouteus voice turned his tone into velvet, but she paid no mind, only smiling cynically.

“Oh, he will change. I know that, but I do believe he will still retain his gentleness,” she said and shrugged carelessly. Averting her eyes from his gaze, she focused her attention back to her friend. “You are almost there, Marcus. You will be alright.”

As soon as she finished her last sentence, as soon as she finished her last piece of encouragement, Marcus eyes snapped to reveal the eyes of a newborn vampire. And just like that, the world slowed down.

Plouteus grinned maniacally.

Marcus  _ jumped  _ into a crouch, gaze focused on the man in Plouteus shoulder.

The man began to stir.

Plouteus opened his mouth to speak, but before he could Marcus  _ moved _ , hands stretched out to into claws. 

Plouteus tried to move out of the way, to escape his self-made downfall, but he was too slow, too weak, against Marcus’ newborn strength.

Plouteous lost his head, then his arms, then Marcus ripped his torso away from his legs and threw it out of the way. 

Marcus teeth sinked into the man’s neck.

The man  _ screamed _ , and she felt  **nothing** .

And Oriana? She screamed at Marcus, begged him to  _ burn  _ Plouteus body. 

            ~~Then~~

She

_ Woke _

**Up** .

  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is _probably_ the last chapter this week, since I have to start preparing for my first year in college and all, but hopefully I will upload another chapter next week.  
>  And, yes! This was Marcus chapter! I headcanon him as the oldest member of the Volturis so he goes first... Even if originally I _had_ planned for Oriana to meet Aro and Didyme first. Marcus just? Kinda happened and I couldn't do anything about it. Also?? Marcus?? A wonderful friend, and a great relationship therapist in the ancient times. Not really sure _how_ was his life before his vampirism, but like? I guess? He was turned by a crazy ex-friend that was in love with him, hopping he was his mate, b u t NOPE. Instead he ended up dead for a second time. Only?? I headcanon that in the original timeline Marcus didn't actually kill his creator. Without Oriana, Plouteus didn't get distracted, and thus dropped the 'snack'. Also, on the OT Marcus didn't have a friend to 'protect' nearby. So hey! Marcus also sees Oriana as a friend! That is good, right?  
>  Next chapter come other two members of the future Volturi coven that have already been, but I am not going to say w h o. Guess, there is like 67% you will guess right.  
> Also! I am pretty sure only the coven will have chapters focused on themselves. I love the guard, but like? Political scheming is important when taking down big corrupt Vamps, so that is hopefully going to happen. So maybe? Two guards or more will be recruited in the same chapter, I am not quite sure yet.


	4. Bare your Teeth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which worries are assuaged, morality is briefly discussed and names are dropped so hard that reality _shakes_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no excuse, except, college is hard as fuck and I am but a simple student trying to survive their freshmen year. So, like, this chapter is probably full of grammar/spelling errors and I am sorry, but I guessed y'all would prefer to actually get a chapter today rather to wait until I get back to edit it... Which would have been anywhere from never or in a month. With this excuse, I present you! Chapter three!

Waking up was a challenge of its own.

It was not the usual song of sleepiness and reluctance, but an entirely different ballad. There was no sleep weighing her down, no slow realization of the change in scenario.  No, she woke up suddenly and devastatingly. The clear realization that there was  _ nothing  _ she could do on her mind. No help she could offer her friend, no hand to extend in comfort.

A quick glance to her clock revealed that she had woken up twenty minutes before her alarm, and somehow that made the situation even _worse_.  Not only was she right, there was _nothing she could_ _do_ , but she also had to deal with the fact that she had to wait until hours to check on her friend.

If.

If she even could do so. And wasn’t that a devastating thought? The dreams that she once feared had become her respite, and instead a new fear had taken their place. What would happen if the dreams stopped? What would she do? Would she return to the monotony of her old life as if nothing had ever taken place?

Those were questions she did not have the strength to answer. At least not yet. Not after the nightmare she had just experienced. Instead, she would have to hope and wait.

Hope that Marcus had followed her advice, and burned Plouteus body.

Wait until the day was over and she could  _ dream _ .

_ Hope  _ that Marcus had maintained a hold of his mind and not gone into a newborn rampage.

_ Wait  _ for her school day to end and for the sun to disappear beneath the horizon.

As she laid there in bed, looking blankly at the ceiling while her alarm clock lit the room in a ghostly green, she realized that all she could do was wait and  _ hope  _ she dreamed of Marcus that night. Hope that she was fast enough to help him, even if she had been late to help him this time around. Even if she had been too late to help him where it truly mattered.

Grimacing at her ceiling, she shook her head, trying to rid herself from the overwhelming  _ guilt  _ she felt. Yes, she should have told Marcus about vampires and their dangers. Yes, she should have warned him of the dangers found at night, especially during the night’s where the moon was full. Yes,  _ yes _ ,  **yes** .  

She should have done better.

She hadn’t.

She had made a stupid mistake, grown  _ comfortable _ . What is more, some part of her, as  _ small  _ and  _ inconsequential  _ as it was, had still believed that it was just a  **_dream_ ** . Perhaps some part of her still believed that, but no longer could she afford treating her dreams as such. Not when what she felt was so  _ real _ , so  _ raw _ .

Death had taught her that life was too short for regrets, too short for ‘ _ what ifs _ ’. She only had one life, or well in her case  _ two lives _ , so she had to live her second life at its fullest, even if it meant that she had to con herself into believing that  _ yes _ , her dreams were not a figment of her imagination.

Turning around, she squinted in the dark towards her bedside table and sighed when she managed to discern that her alarm clock read ‘7:04 AM’ in bright green numbers.

_ Great _ , now she didn’t even have time to laze about in bed before going to school. Groaning softly, she stood up and stretched, turning her alarm off when it began to go off.

Moving towards her closet, she began to undress, preparing herself for the day she already wished was over.

 

* * *

 

Closing her eyes, she rested her forehead on the desk in front of her and wished she could just skip the entirety of elementary, middle and high school. Just push the  _ fast forward _ button on the movie of her second life until she had graduated from high school for a second time. Wow, but was the public education system  _ annoying _ . While logically, she knew she was making the right choice, that she would have been  **_fucked_ ** if any shady organizations caught wind of her  _ advanced  _ mindset.  **_Gods_ ** , now that she had begun to  _ believe  _ vampires existed she realized she would have been even  _ more  _ screwed if anyone had gotten wind of her circumstances. Meeting the Volturi was  _ not  _ on her to do list… At least not for  _ now. _ So, yeah, she had made the  _ right  _ decision when she had decided to underplay her abilities. Still,  _ if she had to do a vocab quiz one more damn time she would go batshit crazy _ . She liked writing, yes, but wow was she done with vocabulary tests. So  _ fucking  _ done.

All the screaming wasn’t helping either. She hated Fourth Grade from the bottom of her heart. Yes, her friends were adorable. So hopeful and bright-eyed. Yes, she had fun playing with them. Yes, she was happy her kindergarten stage was over… But,  **_but_ ** , being stuck in a classroom full of ten years old as a ten year old? It was a  _ nightmare _ .

It was exactly this kind of moments that made her debate whether her idea of pretending to be just a rather smart child was such a good idea, or if she should have just made herself a  _ genius _ . Even Volturi should be better than that. Right?

“Class! The bathroom break is over!”

Groaning softly into the wood, she sighed and mentally prepared herself for the rest of the day.

“Gods, I wish the day was over already,” she whispered as she raised her head.

 

* * *

 

“How was school, sweetheart?”

As soon as she opened the door, she heard her mother’s and restrained a grimace. Painting a bright smile on her face, she skipped cheerily into the room.

“It was great, Mami! We started learning about the history of Florida and it’s so cool!”

“It’s good that you are enjoying your classes,” her mother said with a smile. “Now go put your things in your room.”

“Okay!” chirping happily, she made her way towards her room, smile slowly falling from her face, replaced by a frown. Gods, she was so  _ tired _ of acting like a child. She couldn’t wait until she was an adult.  _ Again _ .

 

* * *

 

_ That night she dreamt. _

By itself, dreaming was not a surprising occurrence. Her dreams had become  _ expected _ . Normal, casual, part of her routine. From the very first dream on, visiting Marcus had become just another part of her day. No, dreaming didn’t surprise her. What  _ did  _ surprise her was that this time, when she opened her eyes, there was  _ no Marcus _ . Instead, she was in a vastly different forest than the one she had dreamt the night before. The forest was different, and to be honest, quite  _ macabre _ . The full moon peaked in between tree branches, illuminating the forest floor, leaving behind shadowy imagines. Worst of all,  _ everything  _ was silent. There were no birds singing, no animals moving about, no  _ insects chirping _ … It was unnatural.

She was lost, worried,  _ confused _ . She always,  _ always _ , dreamed of Marcus, so whatever her current situation was it was  _ new  _ and  _ surprising _ . She didn’t like surprises very much. And especially not when they took the shape of a creepy ass forest under a  _ full moon _ .

She had a) read enough horror books to know that waking up on a strange forest was  _ not a good sign,  _ and b) knowledgeable enough on the subject of the supernatural to know exactly what _ manner of beasts _ were awakened during the full moon.

For those fans who had read the  _ Twilight  _ books, watched the movies, or even those who had the barest minimum information on the topic, the knowledge of the existence of werewolves was a  _ fact,  _ an undeniable truth. She had read the books, she had watched the movies, hell,  _ she even had read online headcanons and meta _ . She knew that in the  _ Twilight  _ universe, her  _ current universe _ , werewolves were a  _ thing _ . An evolutionary imperfected  _ thing _ , but a  _ thing  _ nonetheless.

So, of course, she didn’t exactly feel comfortable at the moment. Not with the full moon on the sky, not when the forest was as silent as death itself. Not when she  _ knew  _ that her luck meant she would probably get to see a Children of the Moon some time soon.

“I hate this creepy dream, this creepy forest and this creepy… Well,  _ everything _ ,” grumbling under her breath, she raised her hand to run it through her hair and froze when she heard the  _ howl _ . “Of  _ fucking  _ course. My  _ fucking  _ luck.”

Growling under her breath, she did  _ exactly  _ what  _ no one  _ should do, she ran  _ towards  _ the howl. She was  _ curious _ , alright? And she  _ was  _ dreaming. So far, nothing on her dreams had wounded her, so it was the perfect opportunity to see the damn beasts and learn what all the fuss was about.  

Slipping soundlessly through the forest, she made a straight line towards the howl, not caring whether she ran  _ through  _ a tree or two. She was intangible, a ghost, a ghost, incapable of being hurt on her current shape.

Soon, the trees began to clear, growing farther and farther apart, skeletal limbs reaching unto the sky. It was the perfect battlefield against someone with low maneuverability, and it seemed as if  _ someone  _ was determined to test it. Claw marks marred the trees, creating a trail leading to one of the most breathtakingly  _ terrifying  _ scenes she had witnessed.

Logically, she had known that werewolves were not to be trifled with, but she had not realized how much of a biological weapon they were until she saw one. Unlike the most typical portrayals, and even Meyer’s own vague comments, the beast in front of her did not look like a  _ wolf _ . They were humanoid in shape, if your definition of humanoid was a creature that stood on two legs, hunched over and had arms so long that the tip of its claws brushed the floor. Just looking at it was  _ wrong _ . Nothing should look like  _ that _ . A deformed skull gave the vague appearance of misshapen ears, while sickly yellow eyes shined with madness. Tufts of matted hair randomly sprouted throughout the creature’s body without rhyme or reason, and the  _ claws _ .  _ By the gods _ , the claws and the teeth were a thing of  _ nightmares _ . Long and curved, they shined eerily under the full moon. And the  _ tips _ . The tips were jagged and dripped with a liquid that  _ glowed _ . The entirety of the beast screamed supernatural, and it was fitting yes, but she wanted it  _ gone _ .

And from what she could see, she wasn’t the only one. While she took her time processing the sheer presence of the Child of the Moon, it’s opponents had collected themselves and gone back into the offensive. A tall, athletic woman had her lips curled with a fury so intense it sent shivers down her spine. Next to her stood a tall man with  _ white hair,  _ of all things, eyes calculating.

“Is that a fucking  _ anime boy _ ? Fighting a Child of the Moon? What is this,  _ Fairy Tail _ ?” muttering under breath, she stepped closer to the fight, watching with morbid fascination as a single werewolf gave two vampires a run for their money.  Still, while the mindless beast was strong soon it became obvious that it was no match against the two vampires that moved in perfect harmony.

It was like watching a dance. As the woman went right, the man struck left. They moved around each other in perfect synchronization. Mesmerized by their cooperation, she stepped closer, wishing to see them more clearly, but she stopped when she caught the sight of something that made her blood run cold.

There was another pair of yellow eyes amongst the wood.

Blue eyes catched the way the hidden werewolf tensed it’s legs and she took a snap decision that had far reaching consequences, not that she had known so at the time. Wishing herself visible, she opened her mouth and  _ screamed  _ as the other werewolf jumped.

“Watch out!”

The white haired stranger turned around just in time, avoiding the swipe from his attacker and tackling into the ground with renewed determination brought out by anger.

The edge of her lips twitched up at the ‘cracks’ that followed, one after the other, the bones of the werewolf under the man’s grip  _ breaking _ . With the satisfaction, came worry. When had she become so vindictive? When had the sound of breaking bones stopped worrying her? Had death truly changed her and twisted her into someone that the enjoyed violence?

As she watched the two beautiful strangers work in perfect sync, she felt the pit of her stomach drop, because the answer was  _ yes _ . Death had changed her, and she was barely beginning to realize _ how much _ . The worst part of the ordeal, though, was that while she worried about not noticing such changes, she felt nothing regarding the changes themselves.

She should be disgusted by her apparent vindictiveness, disgusted by her degrading morality… But she wasn’t. Instead, as she watched the vampires tear into the werewolves, all she could do was  _ smile _ as the edges of her vision faded, signaling the end of the dream.

 

* * *

 

Opening her eyes, she had to take a moment to collect herself when she realized she had not, in fact, woken up as she had expected. Instead, the dream had simply shifted in location dropping her smack dab in the middle of the damned clearing where Marcus had turned.

Turning around in a circle, she sighed in relief when she saw Marcus standing in front of her. Rushing to his side, she let her hands, hover over his arms. Looking up at him, she let her eyes wander around his face, examining him for any damage caused after the transformation.

“Thank the gods,” she said as she let her hands fall and took a step back, relaxing when she saw Marcus’ eyes. Red as freshly spilled blood, yes, but also satisfyingly clear.

“What brings this concern forth?” he asked, amusement shining through. Relaxing at his coherence, she shrugged.

“Partly guilt, partly worry. I did leave you alone after you awoke, and even if I have no control over when I wake or not, it does not mean I have to  _ like  _ it,” she pointed  out as she sighed. And wasn’t that strange?  While she could not interact with the world around her, she could still do such things as sigh and run her hand through her hair. Her dreams were such a strange place. “I also feel extremely guilty about not warning you about the vampires. I just thought that, well, you know. You wouldn’t  _ meet  _ one,  _ ever _ . Much less turn into one.”

“But from what you told me while,  _ while  _ the fire was devouring me, you knew of these creatures. Am I correct?” The curiosity in his voice was apparent, but so was the pain at the mention of his transformation.

“Wait. You  _ heard  _ me?”

“Indeed. It was one of the reasons I did as you told me and burned Plouteus,” he said while grimacing, eyes shadowed by grief. “He was not the man I used to call a friend, and after I regained my mind after… After the  _ feeding _ , I could clearly see that our friendship had deteriorated into an obsession.”

Stopping short at the pain in his voice, she noticed the way his shoulders hunched and how he seemed to be turning inward, grief and shame consuming him.

“Marcus, I am  _ so  _ sorry you had to see what your friend turned into.”

“What I wonder is,” he began to pace as he spoke, an erratic movement that she knew was impossible for the human eye could follow, but somehow  _ she  _ could. “Will I fall as he has? Will I let the thirst consume me?”

“Honestly? I don’t think so,” she declared, sitting cross legged in the ground. “The fact you are worried about becoming a mindless killer shows that you have more control than you believe. I am pretty sure most newborns would not be debating the morality of vampirism a… Sorry, how long was I gone?”

“The sun has not set since you left.”

“Yeah, my point exactly. I am pretty sure most newborns would be searching for blood around now, and yet here we are,” she said.

“That does not mean I do not want to drink more, that does not mean that I won’t kill the next person that passes by me,” Marcus rubbed his forehead. “I do not want to harm those I care about.”

“Then don’t? There is plenty of other people out there, and honestly? As long as  _ you  _ get your fill,” she shrugged. “Well, I don’t care what happens to your victims.”

“Oriana!”

“What? Come on! I have seen you kill others to defend those you care about, this is not much different. You care about yourself and you don’t want to feel thirst? Drink from someone you  _ don’t  _ know. Voila! Problem solved.”

She watched as Marcus came to a halt and turned towards her in surprise.

“That is fairly callous and I am surprised you would say that. Did you not frown at the slavers when they visited town?”

The incredulity in his tone made her pause and reflect on what she had said. It was callous indeed, but she could not come to regret saying it. After all, what did she care about known strangers when her friend was  _ right there  _ and had a real problem? To her, the people Marcus would feed on were long death anyway, so why should she care what happened to them? Death was inevitable, slavery on the hand could be stopped.

“I-I think that my train of thought is kinda like this: I don’t care about the people you kill, because I am more worried about what would happen to  _ you  _ if you don’t feed. Also all people have to die at one point. On the other hand,” there she paused to gather her thoughts. “On the other hand, I find slavery appalling because it implies some humans are inherently inferior to others and that is false. Also, it does not work as a system and it’s just really stupid? Like, it halts progress and just spreads societal hate, which then harms society. And like? People don’t  _ have  _ to be slaves, or have to  _ have  _ slaves. It is not necessary nor a must, simply a so-called ‘luxury’ used to oppress those without power.”

Hearing the leaves crunching next to her, she turned to see Marcus sit next to her with a contemplative face.

“That is… Actually, not a terrible point.”

“Geez, thanks for your vote of confidence. It’s not like I know about political theory or shit like that, right?” Sarcasm dripping from her words, she rolled her eyes. “But really, you have to make the best out of the situation at hand. Like, for example, now you are immortal and are incredibly  _ fast _ . You are going to be able to see entire civilizations  _ rise _ and  _ fall _ . The world is your oyster, Marcus, and you should enjoy that.”

“When you put it like that, there  _ is _ much I have yet to explore.”

“Right?! The opportunities are limitless...”

Soon they returned to their usual speaking patterns, bantering and chatting idly until the background blurred and the dream slipped from between her fingers.

 

* * *

 

 

This time, when she opened her eyes to see her bedroom ceiling she did not worry. Why would she? She had spoken with Marcus, and while he had not been  _ fine _ , he was  _ alive, _ he was  _ coping _ . All that she could do now was to wait and attempt to stay with him as he grew into his new lifestyle and fully embraced his new nature. 

That she could do easily.

Stretching languidly, she rolled out of bed. Yawning, she walked up to her closet and opened the door wide. Fingers running through the hangers, her hand stopped on a white dress with red dots as an image flashed through her head. 

_ “Watch out!”  _

_ White hair flew as the vampire turned towards her, red eyes meeting blue as they took her in and settled at her hand pointing behind him. Suddenly, she was facing the stranger’s back as he threw himself to the werewolf that had previously escaped his and his partner’s attention. _

Blinking the image back, she hummed thoughtfully. Right,  _ that  _ had happened. That was… New, to say the less. She had never dreamed of anyone but Marcus before. And now that she thought about it, that fact was also weird by itself.  _ Why  _ was she dreaming of Marcus on the first place? Had Marcus been just the beginning? Maybe-

“Oriana, hurry up and get ready or you will be late!” Her mother’s voice called out, snapping her from her musings.

“Sorry mami! I will hurry!”

Taking the white dress down from it’s hanger, she decided to leave that matter alone until  _ later _ .  _ Later  _ referring to Science class, of course.

 

* * *

 

 

Science class came and went, and she wasn’t any closer to figuring out why suddenly Marcus was not the sole focus of her dreams. And she had  _ tried _ . The entire class, she had created theory after theory, each one more ridiculous than the last, in hopes of finding out the why behind the sudden change, but none seemed to be plausible. By the time the school day had ended, there were only three things she could say for sure:

  1. Marcus was a vampire.
  2. Her dreams had expanded to include more vampires, and perhaps they would not stop with those two.
  3. Her life was irrevocably _weird_.



Admittedly, it was not much of a list, but it was something and the thought that she was one step closer to figuring out what the hell was happening with her dreams brought her comfort that night, as she got ready for bed.

 

* * *

 

“Alright,  _ what the flying fuck _ ?” Opening her arms, she repeated her words, not bothering to speak in Ancient Greek because  _ fuck it _ . “ _ What the fuck?! Why am I even here? _ ” 

‘Here’ being a creepy cave with two vampires that looked hauntingly familiar. Almost as if she had seen them somewhere before… Oh wait, she had.  _ Because they were the same vampires that had killed the werewolves the day before _ . 

Groaning in annoyance, she tightened her fists and shook them towards the ceiling.

“Fuck whoever decides where I travel in my dreams,” hissing in Ancient Greek, she let her hands drop and sighed. “Seriously, how hard is it to give a warning?”

Her words seemingly broke through whatever surprise her arrival had cause, because suddenly the male vampire was up on her face snarling.

“ **Identify yourself and your intention** ,” he growled, and wow was that pee-in-your-pants terrifying… Or well, would have been if she had been physically present in the cave. 

As it was, she knew nothing the vampires did could harm her, so she rolled her eyes at him.

“Relax, you don’t have to worry about me. I am intangible, see?” To prove her point, she shoved her hand through the nearest wall and sent the man a  _ look _ . “But since you asked  _ so  _ nicely. I am Oriana Blanco and have no intention regarding you two, since, you know.  _ I have no clue who you are _ .”

Apparently that was the right thing to say, because the athletic woman stepped forward and nudged the man out of the way, her eyes shining with interest. 

“Are you perhaps a ghost? Did you die young? Are you haunting these woods?”

Surprised by the sudden interest, she floundered for a moment before shaking her head. 

“No to all three. I am not a ghost, the first time I died I died at twenty, so not really young per say. And like, to be honest, I have no clue  _ where  _ I am,” she shrugged. “My soul kinda travels to the past when I sleep? Not really? I don’t actually know how that works, just that it has happened a lot recently.”

“Why should we believe you?” The man asked. “You were on the clearing on the new moon.”

“Because it’s the truth? I don’t know what else to say, to be honest. But I am curious. What ended up happening to the werewolves? Did you two kill them?” Tilting her head, she narrowed her eyes when a thought flitted through her head. “Did you burn the bodies?  _ Please  _ tell me you burned the bodies.”

“We did burn the bodies, but why do you ask?” The woman asked curiously.

“The fluids coming out from the Children of the Moon looked  _ toxic _ , and honestly, it is not entirely unbelievable for it to be used to contaminate other animals or something like that,” grimacing, she shook her head. “That does  _ not _ sound good.”

“You are not wrong,” the man agreed grudgingly. “And I suppose I must thank you for warning us of the second werewolf.”

“Thank me by telling me your names, please. It’s kinda weird to think of you two as ‘the male vampire’ or ‘the athletic woman’.”

“No.”

“Come on, Caius! We owe it to her,” the woman said and turned towards her with a smile. It was a really pretty smile, a part of her absently noted while a bigger part  _ freaked out _ . “I am Athenodora.”

Gaping, she opened her mouth to say something, anything really, but all that came out was a short.

“Wait, what?!”

She was about to say something else when the entire room  _ spinned _ and suddenly the cave was gone, replaced by wooden walls.

“Well, well, what do we have here?” A voice called from behind her, and she turned to find a young man, maybe around nineteen, looking at her with a, frankly creepy, grin from the threshold of the room. “Hello, apparition. You may call me Aro, how may I call  _ you _ ?”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will (hopefully) post the next chapter, which is actually planned, in the next month or so.  
> Also. What is good characterization? I don't know her.  
> ... _And_ yes I know I lied, _three_ coven members were actually introduced in this chapter, but Aro's intro happened at the end so I don't count it.  
>  Please tell me what you think though! I am always interested in learning your opinions!  
> Also! I made a dash blog for this story! The name is vforvolturi !  
> Updates there are sporadic but you may get some glimpses into what it is to come or some additional stuff!


	5. Seeds in the Garden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When the last chance for a normal life goes out the window, Oriana decides that she wants to see what happens if she plants a new seed in the garden that will become the Volturi.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, apologies for taking so long in posting the next chapter. My inspiration kind of disappeared for a bit there, so I couldn't even edit the draft I had ready. Still! Here it is, chapter four. Enjoy!

Once upon a time, she had hoped for a normal kind of life. 

Eyeing Aro, she sighed as she practically felt that chance escaping from her grasp.

There was no way in hell meeting the last member of the trio was a coincidence. Dreaming of Marcus had been a surprise, meeting both Caius and Athenodora had been a  _ coincidence _ . But meeting Aro? That was deliberate. It was just simply too much to be a coincidence, especially since she had slowly met each of them before they had even  _ dreamed  _ of becoming a coven. Someone was pulling the strings behind her back, but to be honest? She didn’t mind,  _ at all _ . 

The truth was that she was  _ bored _ .

She had been a college student when she had died, starting to grasp how big the world truly was and how much she had wanted to explore it. Nowadays she was stuck in elementary school pretending to pay attention to basic knowledge she already  _ knew _ . So yeah, the dreams had proved to be a great distraction from the monotony of her daily Life. And being able to talk to others on equal footing? That was  _ relieving _ . Faking childhood innocence was exhausting, but she couldn’t stop. Not with her life on the line.

So at the end of the day, she couldn’t complain about the strange situations fate was dropping her into. But.  _ But _ , she really would have liked  _ some  _ sort of warning before she was dropped in the past to deal with  _ motherfucking  _ Aro  _ Volturi _ .

An  _ uncomfortable  _ baby Aro, she noted with hidden glee, but an Aro nonetheless.

Suppressing a smile at his obvious discomfort, she deliberately met his eyes and raised a brow questiongly.

The silence surrounding both of them had long grown awkward, but she didn’t care in the slightest. If Aro wanted to be unnecessarily creepy, well,  _ two  _ people could play that game.

“Now, now,  _ now _ . I have been told names have powers,” she said as she took a step forward until she was less than a foot away from him. Tilting her head, she showed him a smile with one too many teeth. “Whyever should I tell you my name?”

That seemed to confuse him.

“I summoned you,” he said, and  _ oh  _ wasn’t that interesting? He had tried to summon a ghost? What a young entrepreneur he was, she just  _ had  _ to hear the reason behind that. “It is only logical for you to answer my questions.”

No longer able to keep up the act, Oriana snorted. 

“And it would have been impressive, if you had truly summoned me. However that is not the case,” she admitted freely as she started to pace around the room, exploring the little cabin they where in. There wasn’t much to see, simply wooden walls and a floor marred by what to her limited knowledge in the supernatural looked like a summoning circle. So, nothing too out of the ordinary apparently. “Also, while I do enjoy the occasional dramatics, I don’t quite enjoy being intimidated into compliance.”

“Curious indeed, if you are not an apparition, then  _ what  _ are you?” he asked and she sighed.

“I do wonder, is he listening to what I am saying or simply hearing my voice?” she asked the walls surrounding them.

“Must I repeat myself for your amusement?” Aro asked through gritted teeth.

“For my amusement No,” she said. “For my answers? Without a doubt.”

She shrugged.

“I would apologize and say it wasn’t personal, but that wouldn’t be true. I am self-aware enough to realize that I am annoyed by your intimidation tactics. That is rude as it is, however you also seem to be forgetting something important: you have the questions, yes, but  _ I _ have the answers. In this situation I hold do the high ground, so guess what? I want respect where respect is due.” She shrugged again. “What would you do in my position?”

She watched as he struggled to come up with an excuse, only for come up with nothing.

“I suppose that I-,” Aro sighed. “I suppose that I would react similarly.”

“Exactly,” she said. Pausing in front of a wall, she turned to face Aro and leaned back casually. While she  _ was  _ somewhat annoyed by his behavior, she was curious about what he was going to ask. Better, then, to give him his full attention. “Also, I would recommend to take this as a practice. You look and have the manner of a politician, however, for such a position it is always better if one has one or two tricks under their sleeves. If you do learn to reign your pride, it will be easier for you to manipulative those who are too blinded by the shine of their egos to see beyond the surface. Use this situation as practice.”

If she were to be honest, and she always was (at least to herself), Aro was going to need all the practice he could get. For someone who would grow to be one of the greatest Machiavellian masterminds of eternity, his face was strangely  _ open _ . And wasn’t that offputting? Young Aro’s face was so  _ open _ and  _ trusting _ , it was completely unlike what she expected from the teen that would grow up to be one of the most feared and manipulative vampires on her new world’s  _ history _ . It was unexpected, but by now she should have learned to expect the unexpected. 

As for Aro… Well, he really needed to work on his resting bitch face, especially since she could  _ see  _ his pride and curiosity warring on his expressions.

Watching him steadily as he struggled with an ego given to him by his fine clothing and educated speech, she wondered if the arrogance had come from his family’s legacy or his own abilities. Nonetheless, he would have to learn how to tame it, for it would be dangerous if he did not. 

It was odd to see the individual before the legend had been whispered into existence. From meeting Marcus, she had known that the Volturi were not what they would be, but it was still a shock to see the  _ before _ . Before the human became the vampire. Before the harmless became the threat. Right now, Aro was many things, but he was neither a threat nor a legend, simply a curious teen that had tried summoning a  _ supernatural creature _ . Which… Props to him. She had to give him credit where credit was due… Unless he had chosen to summoned a strange identity due to recklessness and not bravery.  

Which, since she had not seen anything that could be used as a defense against the summoning going wrong, was more than likely. If that was the case, and she was not going to ask for her own peace of mind, she had to thank the  _ fucking  _ gods, if they were even a thing in this new universe, that neither demons nor ghosts existed in the Twilight world. If they had, well, only the gods would have known what would have answered Aro’s call. 

And  _ damn _ .

Didn’t that bring up a terrifying question? Were there truly no demons or ghosts, or even gods?  If vampires ruled from the shadows and shifters lived in Native American reservations, did that mean that gods haunted the peaks of Olympus? Did ghosts lurk in the shadows? Demons in the night? Did they truly not exist in the Twilight universe or was she simply unaware of them?

Yeah, no, no,  _ nope _ . She was  _ not  _ dealing with that shit right now. No way Jose. She already had to deal with vampires and werewolves,  _ no fucking way _ was she dealing with demons and ghosts. Seriously, wasn’t it enough-

Hearing Aro’s throat clear, she abandoned  _ that  _ particular train of thought and focused on the present.

“Apologies for my previous manners. Let me introduce myself, Iam called Aro, son of Tithonus. May I have your name?” This time, when Aro introduced himself he smiled charmingly. “And if it not much bother, may I ask you to answer some questions for me?”

_ There it was _ . 

Oriana smiled. 

Even in his youth, and there was no mistaking it the Aro in front of her was young, it seemed that he was still a formidable opponent. She did not know if words had the same effect on her than they had on the Fae of legend, but she thanked her lucky stars that she had once been obsessed with mythology. 

There was a power in words, and it seemed Aro knew this. 

Impressed by the turn around, she nodded, eyes catching the way the light entering through the windows made Aro look impossibly  _ young _ . 

It was unusual to see Aro Volturi look so  _ young _ , so unlike Michael Sheen, unlike the leader described in the books. It was odd to see a teenager and expect a god, for he wasn’t one yet.  _ But _ , but the potential to become the man of the stories was there, she could see that. It was hidden under the recklessness of youth, but it was  _ there _ . In his charm, she could glimpse the man that would unite the Volturi coven and create its Guard. In his poise, she could see the leader that defeated his enemies and ruled the vampire world. In his voice, she could hear the man Edward Masen had first seen in Carlisle Cullen’s mind. 

Aro was without a shadow of doubt a natural born leader, and every leader had their flaws. In his case, well, it seemed that Aro’s ego was a little to big for him to handle by himself. She had spent all of five minutes with him and even she could realise he was the kind of individual that believed that he was  _ always  _ right, even when he wasn’t. 

And  _ that _ .

That wouldn’t do. 

_ Pride goes before a fall _ .

He needed balance. Marcus and Caius had done a good enough job on the books, but they had let him get away with too much, given him all but absolute power. And as anyone that had watched Star Wars would know, absolute power corrupts  _ absolutely _ . 

That thought didn’t sit well with her. 

As a reader, she had been fascinated by the Volturi. As a new player in the game, she realized they were necessary. They needed to succeed, but if she let things proceed as they would have history would repeat itself. Aro’s ego would cause a strain on the coven, and if someone as self-absorbed as Edward Masen, or someone as oblivious as Isabella Swan could see this strain… Well, so could the entire vampire world. 

That wouldn’t do. That wouldn’t do,  _ at all _ . 

The imbalance of power had weakened them, made them easy to oppose. Without said imbalance, it was hard to say how far would the Volturi have gone if Aro had not been given all but absolute control. Would Aro have let his paranoia get the better of him and killed Didyme? If things were changed, would the Volturi become the cartoony villains from Isabella’s story?

Well, why not find out?

“A pleasure, Aro. I am Oriana Blanco, and yes, I would  _ love  _ to answer some of your questions.”

 

* * *

 

“So you are not an apparition?”

“Nah, sorry. I am just a dreamer.”

“No need to apologize, that is perhaps even better than being an apparition.”

“I am going to take that as a compliment.”

“It is, and I would like to ask you some questions about your ability. It may shed some light around my own ability.”

“Oh,  _ now  _ we are talking.”

 

* * *

 

 

“This gift of mine, have you heard of it before, Oriana?”

“Not quite, but there are some individuals that have specific abilities. So there  _ may  _ be someone who also finds it easy to psychoanalyze individual’s in such a way that they can know things about that individual’s life that they were not told about, but I think is more likely that your gift is unique. Of course, there may be someone that has a similar gift.”

“Fascinating.”

 

* * *

 

“Wait, so you are from the  _ future _ ?”

“Well,  _ your  _ future and  _ my  _ present. Po-tay-to, po-tah-to. But sure, like three-thousand years into your future. Weird, right?”

“I actually find that intriguing.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Pardon me, but could you repeat what you  _ just  _ said?”

“Ahm, sure? I dreamt of my friend being turned. I am not sure why you want to know about that.”

“Well, I would like to know what do you mean by ‘being turned’.”

“Oh yeah, that would be confusing. Sorry, I assumed you knew I was talking about vampires.”

“About  **_what_ ** ?!”

“Oh boy, you didn’t know about vampires, did you?”

“I did  _ not _ , but I would like to.”

“Well, here it goes…”

 

* * *

 

“Alright, so correct me if I am wrong,” Aro began while rubbing his forehead as if to ward off an upcoming headache. Unsurprisingly, as the conversation had progressed, he had grown more and more shocked. At some point he had to recline against the wall to support himself, dirtying his pristine white robes in the process. It looked like he was getting quite the  _ spectacular  _ headache. “In this world, there exists a species that is  _ more  _ than human. Humans once, but now  _ more _ .”

“Yep, that sounds about right.”

“This species is not only immortal, but some of them are granted  _ gifts  _ as they turn.”

“Correct.”

“And the only price there is to this amazing option is that of drinking blood?”

“I mean, many would argue that the price is a much bigger deal than what you are saying, not  _ just  _ blood but the essence of the living… But yeah. You have the picture,” she shrugged. He wasn’t necessarily wrong, per se, but his hyperfocus on the immortality and the gifts that came from being a vampire instead of the whole  _ blood sucking thing _ showed exactly where his priorities laid. Which wasn’t exactly a surprise when it came to Aro, but nonetheless, the blood sucking part was kind of important.

It wasn’t like she could blame him, however. After all, she was beginning to consider vampirism as a course of action. She only needed a vampire ‘patron’ and she would be golden… Well, she also had to wait until she turned at least  _ twenty-five _ . No way she was turning as a  _ teen  _ or something like that. That was a recipe for disaster. She was not going through high school more than once, thank you very much. 

“Could you perhaps tell me where could I find one such vampires? I would like to be turned,” Aro said. 

“I mean, technically yes? I can always ask Marcus to turn you, but I highly recommend for you to wait a couple of years before you are turned,” she said as she tilted her head and hummed thoughtfully. “Nevermind, it’s not a recommendation. I am not telling Marcus to turn you until you are at least on your  _ twenties _ .”

Since they were sitting _ right in front of each other _ , she was treated with Aro’s face as it fell from excitement into thunderous annoyance. 

“Why must you insist on creating such inconveniences?”

“Okay, so I understand that you are annoyed, but. And think about this carefully: Do you really want your brain to be stuck in your _ teenage years _ ?” Raising an eyebrow, she spoke in candor, her arms gesticulating wildly as she got into her argument. “Like, I know  _ I  _ wouldn’t.”

“I can’t see your point.”

“Ok, so like. You know about the brain, right? Like, that thing that is in your head and makes you think?”

“I am familiar with a brain is, yes,” he said, sarcasm heavy on his voice.

Sarcasm that she decided to ignore because she was trying to  _ help him _ dammit.

“Well, first of all. The human brain doesn’t finish developing until somewhere in our twenties, like, I don’t know exactly when, but I think I remember it is somewhere after our twenty-fifth birthday. So like, do you want to be turned with an underdeveloped brain? I don’t think so!” Opening her arms wide, she shook them in emphasis. “Think of all the potential lost!”

“... You are making  _ some  _ sense,” he granted.

“Cool, but I am not done. My second point is this. Do you want to spend the rest of eternity as a gangly and awkward-looking teen? Even a  _ really  _ hot one? Seems like a bad deal for me,” she said while lowering her arms and making finger guns. “Like, sorry, but think of all the angst that would bring. Personally, I don’t think anyone would want to live eternally like that.”

“Alright, alright. Your argument makes sense. I will wait, but I will only do so for six years. Twenty-four would have to suffice.”

Humming thoughtfully, she nodded. 

“Yeah, that seems alright to me. I will tell Marcus to turn you around time.”

“Good,” he said as he glanced at one of the small windows doting the cabin and visibly startled as he noticed the position of the sun. “I will be taking my leave, I promised Mother to help with his chores.”

“Ok. Have a nice afternoon. Also, I should be waking up in any moment now, so I should tell you I don’t actually know when or if I am dreaming of you again. I don’t think I can control what I dream.”

“Why not?”

“Uh… Good question, and the answer is that I haven’t  _ tried  _ to.”

“Well then, you should begin  _ trying _ . It might be useful to do so every once in a while.”

As the edges of her vision began to fade, she let out a sound of offense. Opening her mouth, she began to speak on her own defense.

“Hey-!”

 

* * *

 

_ RIINGGG _

Her eyes snapped open as her hand snaked out from her covers slammed down on the alarm. Staring blankly at the ceiling, she let out a huff of laughter. 

“I can't believe Aro is actually a little shit,” her grin widened. “Oh, things are turning out to be  _ interesting _ .” 

“Oriana! Get up or you will be late for school!”

Rolling out her bed, she scrambled to get ready as she went over the little details she had observed throughout her dream, stopping on a particular oddity that had slipped by at the moment but that now she could not help but be curious about. She had met Aro, but where was Dydime? She had thought they were twins.

“Oriana!”

Slipping into her dress, she resolved to think about that later.

“I am up, I am up!”

 

* * *

 

_ Tap. Tap. Tap.  _

The pencil hit the notebook rhythmically as she stared blankly at the whiteboard. Unlike what her focused expression implied, she  _ wasn’t  _ taking notes. They were going over some inconsequential grammar rule or the other so she saw no need for it. Instead, she had let her mind wander, replaying her dreams and filing what she deemed important.

“Oriana, could you please tell us how the rule would apply in the example written on the board?” her teacher asked, and she  _ probably  _ should try to remember her name but she really couldn’t be bothered.

Crashing back into reality, she blinked at the board and nodded. Smile wide on her face, she stood up.

“Sure!”

 

* * *

 

“Oh, it’s  _ you  _ again.” 

That night, when she opened her eyes to a lush forest and two  _ bloody  _ vampires she could not help but sigh. There she goes again, meeting with the Volturi before they became the Volturi. Seriously, what was up with her dreams?

It wasn’t that Athenodora and Caius were annoying, they were simply dripping in blood, but she really would have liked to have dreamed of Marcus. Perhaps Aro was right and she needed to start trying to control her dreams. 

Wrinkling her nose at the blood, she made herself comfortable on the branch on top of which she had appeared. Kicking her legs back and forth, she noted that vampires were indeed  _ sparkly _ . Which was hilarious, and a bit disconcerting. What was the big deal about sparkling? They looked like they were covered in body glitter, not as if they weren’t human. _ Skin of a killer, my ass _ , she thought with a snort. It was really nothing compared to a vampire’s eyes.  _ Those  _ screamed ‘predator’.

Yes, she had compared Caius to the quintessential white-haired anime boy, but she supposed that a more fitting comparison was that of a wraith, tall and pale. Dressed in black, the only color on his frame was red. Scarlet red eyes and rusted red marring his cheeks. Athenodora was in a similar situation, tall and nymph-like as she was. It was a haunting image, but she had to concede that there was a great allure on it. 

“I love your enthusiasm, Caius. Truly, I feel so welcomed,” she rolled her eyes and nodded at Athenodora. “A pleasure, Athenodora. Apologies for leaving so abruptly, I am fairly new to these dreams and I have yet to understand how they work.”

“No need to apologize,” Athenodora said. “But I would like an explanation as to why were you surprised when we told you our names.”

_ Shit _ , she had forgotten about that. She couldn’t tell them the truth, it could drastically change history and like  _ hell  _ she wanted the Romanian coven in control. The Volturi at least had potential as a political body. What little information she had of the Romanians painted them as nothing less than a hot mess. So of course, honesty was out. But, what lie could convince them? Should she fake ignorance? No, that would be an insult to their intelligence.

“Well, about that,” she said with a grimace. “I have heard both of your names before by another vampire, but that vampire said one of you was afraid of Children of the Moon, so I was surprised that you had been fighting them.”

The outrage on Caius face confirmed that they had believed her lies, and she patted herself on the back for choosing that misdirection instead of outright lying. She  _ had  _ heard another vampire said that, specifically Mr. Masen on one of the movies. Hell, if she remembered which, though.

Apparently, whoever had said it was right, the best lies were those who were not lies at all. 

“Who said such thing?!” Caius asked. 

She shrugged.

“I don’t know, sorry. It was a weird situation. I could not interact with the vampire that said this, but I heard and saw him say it. I can describe him if you want?”

“There is no need,” Athenodora cut Caius off as he was about to speak, sending him a warning look. “Simply know that we are not afraid of the Children, we are simply wary seeing that they are under the control of the Romanians.”

_ That  _ gave her a pause, feet stopping mid kick and sharp blue eyes focusing on the two vampires.

“Wait. Are you saying that the Romanians can control the Children of the Moon during full moon?” She asked, aghast at the thought. That  _ definitely  _ wasn’t on the movies.

The Romanians used werewolves? What the hell, that was rather smart of them, if not stupidly reckless. Why use the only beast that could actually  _ harm  _ vampires? 

“They can’t, but they use them as a sort of vanguard for their army. Usually, they keep the infected humans in silver-made cells, but during the full moons they are set loose on the coven they want to conquer.” Athenodora explained. 

“While I can’t necessarily say that what they are doing is not smart, there is a lot of variables regarding werewolves,” Oriana pointed out. “How has this not backfired? Like, vampires and werewolves do not get along, correct?”

“Yes,” Caius said, extending the short syllable as if to imply the information was obvious.

Deciding to ignore his obnoxious tone- the poor man looked like a reject anime boy, she had to give him  _ something- _ , she dropped down from the branch she had been ‘sitting’ in.

“Then it really doesn’t make sense. Every time they send the hounds out, they run the risk of being attacked by the one creature that could kill them,” she said.

Scratch what she had thought, it was a terrible idea. The risks by far outweighed the benefits of using werewolves. Any sane individual could see that… But then again, it was never claimed that either Stefan or Vladimir were  _ sane _ . Power-hungry? Yes. Vengeful? Yup. Sane? Not really.

“It does not need to make sense, the Romanians are idiots,” Caius interjected. “Not only has this strategy harmed them already, but giving the Children free reign the one time of the month they are contagious is buffoonery at it’s finest.”

She could not help it, she snorted and was gifted with a withering glare from Caius for her efforts. Luckily, she managed to keep her mouth shut, instead of asking the vampire _ \- who she barely knew _ \- to tell her how he truly felt. 

It seemed that the longer the dreams went on, the less self-preservation she had on them. Which made sense but was alarming nonetheless. She had already accepted her new reality inside what basically was a bad Twilight Self-Insert fanfic and that only meant that she had to be more conscious of what she was saying, if she wanted to be alive in the long term. And she did want to be alive in the long term, no matter what her actions were. 

“Sorry, sorry. I was just appreciating your word choice,” she shrugged. “Also, I had a question. We already established that the saliva from the Children is toxic, but what exactly does it  _ do _ ?”

“That is actually quite the question,” Athenodora began, eyes glittering almost as brightly as her skin. “A better question however, would it be, what does it  _ not  _ do? If a human comes in contact with the salive, they will be infected with the disease. If it falls on the ground, it will cause the death of all fauna in a hexapodēs. If a vampire is bitten, they feel immeasurable pain and the bitten zone becomes as black as the night. The nerves surrounding the bitten zone also become deadened and the venom cannot fix that. There is nothing that can cure a vampire’s limb once bitten. However, the saliva is not the only toxic aspect of the creature: any fluid it excretes can be lethal.”

“You have researched this,” Oriana said. There was no need to ask Athenodora, for as she has spoken of the properties of the saliva she had made the same expression a friend of hers’ in her past life, who had been a Biology major at the time, got when she found out something interesting. She had no doubt that the toxicity of the Children was a kind of pet project for her. 

“Yes, it is quite the fascinating phenomena,” Athenodora admitted. “Did you know that if a human is infected and a vampire drinks from them, the vampire will be slowly be killed by the very blood that sustains them? It seems as if the very essence of the Children is lethal to vampires, however, the opposite also seems true. An infected human cannot be turned, they would simply die a terrible death.”

Well, that made quite the picture. 

“So,” Oriana began slowly. “You are saying that the Children are basically an all-purpose biological weapon. They can be used to essentially salt the earth, keep vampires at by  _ and  _ punish and terrorize humans.”

“Correct,” Caius said, his glare weakening and turning into interest.

“And the Romanians not only a) believe that this is a good idea but b) are allowing their own food source to be contaminated? What happens if every human in the continent becomes infected?” She asked. 

“Nothing good,” Caius answered. “However, the Romanians don’t seem to have the presence of mind to realize this. Nor they realize what it would mean for their rule. As it is, they managed to gain the upper hand in this continent because there is no other coven to content with them. Still, their rule is precarious. The ruling covens from the other continents are allowing this simply because it does not affect them.”

“But if all humans in  _ this  _ continent become infected, then…” Realization hit her like a truck, taking her breath away. “Then it will affect  _ them _ .”

“Yes, and they will have no choice but to interfere.” Caius said. “There is a reason why Athenadora and I are attempting to curve the effect of the Children of the Moon, and this is it.”

“Wouldn’t that be a good thing?” She asked. From the information she had, which she had to admit was limited, it seemed like a good idea for someone to interfere. “The Romanians would no longer be in power.”

Caius shook his head while Athenodora grimaced. 

“Not quite,” Athenodora said.

“Why?” She asked. 

Caius took a deep breath and looked straight into Oriana’s eyes. 

“Because if the ruling covens of neighboring continents intervene, they will raze this place to the ground.” He revealed. “Better to burn the infection out than to let it spread.”

 

* * *

 

After Caius admission a somber silence had fallen upon the three of them, one that she had no desire to break, so she had not. For the rest of her dream, she had remained silent, turning Caius words inside her head. As much as she hated to admit it, in a cold, logical way, razing the continent made sense. And if things truly became so terrible, what else could they do but burn the Children? If they did not, they could threaten the planet.

Yes, it made sense, but that didn’t mean she had to like the idea. 

Once upon a time, she had actually felt bad for the Romanians. Once upon a time, she had thought that the Volturi shouldn’t have killed their mates. Now, with the weight of knowledge on her mind, she wondered if Stefan and Vladimir had been punished  _ enough _ . As it was, they were at the verge of causing a continent-wide genocide and they didn’t seem to care, if the way they kept using the Children said anything. 

Not that anything could be done at the moment, with no coven to oppose them. There was no Aro to suss out gifted individuals. No Marcus or Didyme to bring the coven together. Caius had no desire to rule a coven with an iron first. No, nothing could be done yet.

But. 

But as she watched the forest she dreamed of from the future, Oriana realized that sooner or later, the Volturi would form, with or without her help. 

They would form and rise to power, with their ranks filled with gifted individuals. They would become powerful enough to rule the world for centuries. And that was without her help, without the knowledge she brought to the table. 

With it? There was little that could stop the Volturi from becoming the most powerful coven in Europe. There was only one hurdle they had to overcome before that happened. 

The Romanians had to go. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I am still getting the hang on how to characterize the coven, but I think it's becoming easier for me to write them. Thanks to everyone who commented! I love seeing people's opinions on each chapter!
> 
> I am not sure when will I update next, but hopefully it will be in the next month or so! 
> 
> If you want to ask me questions about the story or want to see some aesthetics for upcoming guard OCs check out the tumblr I made for the story! It's [vforvolturi](https://vforvolturi.tumblr.com/). Updates are sporadic, but I am going to try to be better with that.

**Author's Note:**

> This is overtly self-indulgent, and while I am going to try to touch upon deep topics such as politics and the governance of the Volturi and other shadier aspects of the coven, I am going to willingly admit that I am not entirely knowledgeable on those fronts. I just find the Volturi coven and guards fascinating, and this is my attempt to give them depth.  
> As for my grammar, well this is completely un-beta'd, I tend to write and publish (so editing is kinda all over the place) and English is my second language so mistakes are bound to happen. I apologize for those mistakes, but also! Feel free to let me know so I can change it!  
> 


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